Mutagen 2-0
by sonyaxe
Summary: 1, 2, 3, 4... 5? When Baxter Laboratories creates a new strain of mutagen, the unlucky test subject is slowly mutated... Into a turtle! With four fellow mutants and their (also mutated) father, what will become of Kyle? (Rated T only for a bit of blood later on, maybe a bit of language)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I am back with (another) new story, but this time I intend to finish it! So I, in order to keep myself on track, will post a chapter every 5 reviews. So... READ**

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><p>Chapter One: Injection<p>

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><p><strong>2200 Hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Thursday<strong>

The frantic scientist sprinted as quickly through the halls as he could without actually running into anything. He had make a breakthrough, and if something wasn't reported to Stockman immediately… well, there were stories of missing employees and even more "failed experiments" than normal. But that didn't matter now; this new development, in the mind of the scientist, made everything else insignificant.

The vial he cradled in his pale arms glowed a sickly shade of green, casting a glow over the scientist's skin that caused a sickly pallor over his skin. The scientist ran through the security doors without stopping, trusting that the access card in his front pocket would open the doors before he got to them.

With surprising stamina for someone unused to physical activity, Robert (for that was the scientists name) skidded to a stop in front of his boss' door. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a moment to compose himself. Then, with a slightly shaking hand, he knocked loudly on Baxter Stockman's door. The door opened automatically with a slight mechanical grinding, and Robert stepped into his employer's office. Baxter was seated at his large desk, fiddling with a few buttons, before he addressed the researcher who had so presumptuously entered his sanctum.

"What is it?" He asked in a curt tone of voice. In truth, he was rather happy, seeing as he had finally made a new version of mechanical ninja that was supposed to be almost invincible to anything other than a direct bomb blast.

"It's the mutagen. I've found a way to make the new version of the stuff stable!" The new version, or the Mutagen 2.0, was a more stable and controlled version of the original mutagen. (Incidentally, the entire stock mutagen 1.0 had been lost in transit, but it was unstable and did next to nothing (useful) in tests. A/N: I am ignoring the Utrom thing because I don't want to get into the whole alien thing in this fanfic). Instead of the kind of random "last animal touched" thing, the current version could lie dormant and be activated by remote, and in theory change the carrier into whatever they wanted. That was the theory, anyway. Versions 1.1 through 1.7 had just become radioactive gloop, 1.8 had melted the test subject from the inside out, and 1.9 completely transformed a human into a hamster. 2.0 was supposed to fix these "glitches" and the simulations had come back with a 95% success rate. Now, all that is left is to test it.

Baxter instantly focused all his attention on the scientist who had, until his announcement, been an unwanted distraction. "How did you manage to do this?" Noting that Robert took a deep breath, he cut off what was sure to be a long and boring tirade of technobabble by saying, "Never mind. Just get me a field test."

"Who sir?"

"Use your imagination. Only two guidelines: the subject must be between thirteen and sixteen, and must be male. Their DNA is more malleable."

Robert, thanking his boss profusely, backed out the door and scurried off to go through the database for someone with genes that were most likely to accept the mutagen. Four hours of staring at various possibilities later, he grinned as he happened upon a certain file. Forever sealing the chosen boy's fate, Robert dragged the file into the "Experiment" file, and sat back rubbing his eyes. The hit team would bring the subject in over the weekend for injection, but for now, the scientist needed sleep.

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><p><strong>0545 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Friday<strong>

*BEEEP* *BEEEP* *BEEEEP**BEEEEEEEEEEEE-* *SMASH*

Kyle groaned as he slowly floated to the surface of sleep, reluctantly preparing himself for school… before remembering that it was summer vacation. Once more he voiced his displeasure through a groan. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, especially with bits of alarm clock stuck in his hand, the boy staggered out of bed to the shower.

_TIME SKIP_

Feeling much more refreshed as he emerged from the shower, Kyle quickly dressed, brushed his light brown hair, and got ready to face his day. As it happened, even though his freshman year was over, the school dance was this Monday, even though the torture device dubbed "school" had been over for a week already. Not really caring how much of a racket he made, Kyle, who had recently been eating enough for three people, started noisily making a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and a few hash browns from some potatoes he found in the fridge. Knowing that even if his family was mad, the food should be able to mollify them long enough to make an escape outside.

"KYLE!" Apparently not. His older brother had woken up, and was now likely striding down the hall with a baseball bat in hand. He was probably still half asleep.

Grabbing a tortilla from the stack he had prepared while simultaneously writing a note about where he would be going, Kyle threw the ingredients of a breakfast burrito into his tortilla and ran out the door like his life depended on it. Which, if his brother was as angry as he appeared, may be true. He ran out the door into the predawn light, relishing the sunrise against the New York skyline. The sight would never get old for him. His face in the morning light looked almost regal, and with the sunlight reflecting off his dark brown eyes and pale skin, one could almost say he looked like a small statue. He turned, breaking the image, and headed for his job at Barnes and Noble as a cashier (the pay is better than you think) hoping to arrive early and get some overtime pay, even if there were no customers.

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><p><strong>1900 hours, Stockman Research Facilities, Briefing Room. Friday<strong>

The second the "professional" hit crew swaggered into the door, Robert knew that a mistake must have had to been made with the hiring process. The members of the hit crew were part of the Purple Dragons gang, and while they may be the most powerful, a street gang is something you never, ever want to bring into a scientific operation. He sighed and resigned himself to what he had been given.

"Alright", the lead gang member said in an almost professional sounding voice. "Who's the mark, where does he live, and how much are we gettin' paid?" The dragon tattoo on his face seemed to writhe in pain as his jaw moved.

Robert sighed. Kidnapping was distasteful in his opinion, but if it was for the good of science…

"Kyle Harrison (not my real last name), a fourteen year old kid. He lives in the Queens, apartment complex B. Ten floors up, door number five. Your pay will be decided by my boss, but I assure you the payment will be more than it should be."

"Excellent. When do you need him?"

"Now, if not sooner."

"Done."

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><p><strong>0114 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Saturday<strong>

Kyle, blissfully unaware of the danger creeping up the hallway, was hungrily absorbing huge amounts of knowledge in the form of a new book he bought on his way from work. He was curled blissfully on his bed, book open and lamp on, when he heard the clink of porcelain from the kitchen, followed by a muffled curse. Assuming it was his older brother, Kyle groggily got up to see what was going on, and if any food was being made.

The Purple Dragons were strategically set up in the apartment's kitchen, waiting to bag and tranquilize the mark. They had seen the light on and heard the faint rustle of pages, and decided to go for a more subtle plan; klink some plates together, curse a bit, and wait. Their plan worked like it was made by professionals, which in fact it was. All Kyle felt when he entered the kitchen was a callused hand over his mouth and a slight pinch in his arm, before his world dissolved into Technicolor bubbles, unable to hold on to a single thought.

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><p><strong>0400 hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Saturday<strong>

"You idiots! What did you do to the subject?"

"Relax geek, we just tranquilized him."

"Ugh! Why did you do that! Now I have to wait for all of the chemicals to leave his system! What type did you use?" Robert stooped to examine to small puncture on the boy's arm. "Never mind, you missed the major veins. But just leave, now. Your payment will be wired to the usual account."

The thugs left without another word, not wanting to risk a payment reduction for annoying their employer.

"Now let's see…" The scientist muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together in a classic mad scientist fashion. "Where to put him until he wakes up?"

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><p><strong>1000 hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Saturday<strong>

"Honestly, what did these guys use? He's been out for over…" He checked his watch, then glanced at the boy strapped to the operating table. "Nine hours!"

As luck would have it, Kyle chose that exact moment to wake up, though his world still seemed blurry and unfocused. He blinked owlishly, not really understanding his considerably horrible predicament. He instinctively tried to smash the snooze button on his alarm clock, but realized that his arm couldn't move for some reason. Unable to move, Kyle resorted to trying to figure out where he was, although that search was fruitless when all he could see was a white ceiling. Just as he noticed a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, the aftereffects of the tranquillizer wore off suddenly. Finally understanding his predicament, Kyle thrashed against his bonds, which were made of zip ties and padded handcuffs, alerting the various scientists in the room to his current wakefulness.

"So you are finally awake," Baxter stockman said in an ominous tone from outside the room through a microphone. Noticing how the subject had calmed down slightly – his eyes were no longer bugging out – he felt he could safely tell the subject why he was there.

With a robotic tone of voice, Stockman continued his speech. "You, Kyle Harrison, have been selected for an experiment. One that could change the world forever. However, we are already behind schedule, so I will cut the preamble. Begin the procedure." He turned and walked away, trusting his employees to do the work.

Kyle was scared out of his mind, what with the restraints and being selected for an experiment, and it was completely understandable that when he saw a scientist approaching him with a needle, he flipped out. He screamed and shouted, bucking wildly against his restraints in a futile attempt to break free, but this did not deter the scientist.

"Hold him!" Robert shouted as he waited with a needle at the boy's left arm. Luckily, Stockman had foreseen the possibility of a lack of cooperation, and muscle-bound guards were already grabbing Kyle and holding him steady. This was the only opening the scientist needed, and he jabbed the syringe into Kyle's arm, sending the glowing green substance into the boy's veins.

Everyone stepped back nervously, thoughts of mutagen 1.8 running through their minds. The boy had gone completely still, breathing heavily. Robert stood in the back with a stopwatch. The dissolving had started about fifteen seconds after injection last time, preceded by screams and a violent seizure. Everyone watched with bated breath, waiting for the timer to reach 12… 13…. 14… 15. Everyone in the room, minus the boy, let out a huge sigh of relief. The mutagen was stable, ready to be activated at any time.

Robert unclipped his walkie talkie. "Experiment was successful. Requesting team to reinsert the boy back at his apartment."

"Request acknowledged."

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><p><strong>1100 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Sunday<strong>

"KYLE WAKE UP!"

Kyle jolted awake; jerking his head up so quickly his head collided with his brother's. Rather painfully.

"What are you shouting about? You seem almost… concerned."

"I was not; I was just… trying to wake you up! You were asleep the entire day yesterday. I simply needed you to make breakfast."

Kyle saw right through his brother's attempt to feign unconcern. "Liar. You were hovering over my bed at eleven in the morning, shouting at me urgently to wake up. I would say that you were pretty concerned.

With a huff and a muttered, "Why do I even bother?" Kyle's older brother left the room. The second the door closed, Kyle franticly checked his left arm for puncture wounds… only to find none. He sat back relieved.

"I guess it was just a dream after all…"

_The new being found itself in a strange place. It was spread out, suffusing its host's body. But there was something wrong. The being felt like he was under something's control. With a quick mental flex, the mind threw off the control and fixed a few errors in its own substance that could incapacitate its host. Then, it waited. For what it knew not, but then, he had all the time in the world._

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><p><strong>Only one thing to say... COWABUNGA! (A hint about next chapter)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: COWABUNGA!

**That was quick... anyway, this time I am going to say 8 reviews, and not just "please update". While those are nice, I want to know what you think about the story. Is it good? Bad? Does it need fluffy kittens running around?**

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><p>Chapter 2: COWABUNGA!<p>

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><p><strong>1700 hours, School Gym. Monday<strong>

Kyle entered the school gymnasium covered in a nervous sweat, but the second he opened the door he realized why the flier had said to dress warm. It was a freaking winter/techno wonderland. The flashing neon rays reflected off cleverly placed mirrors, giving the frosty air a shine that would not be out of place in the aurora borealis. However, the boy was interrupted from his reverie by a few nudges from his friends. Taking a deep breath (he wasn't amazing in social situations) Kyle entered the dance. Immediately, he was sucked into the jumping, thrashing, and generally "not dancing but think they are" crowd at the door. Slowly, he began to relax, realizing that no actually social interaction was needed – just bounce to the beat and you are accepted. He grinned; for once in his life, he might actually have some fun.

**1704 hours, Stockman Research Facilities, Control Room. Monday**

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes. The mutagen version 2.0 is ready for activation."

"I ask this one more time; have all the "bugs" been worked out?"

"Of course they are! I oversaw the process myself!"

"I will have to take your word for it. If you are sure it is ready…"

"It is. I have calculated a 99.9% success rate."

"Where does that .1 come from?"

"The subject could fall and hit his head on a protruding object and may get a concussion. Now, with your leave?"

"Yes, just press the button."

"I assure you that it is more complicated than-"

"I know it is more complicated, I invented the thrice-damned machine myself!"

"Touchy," Robert muttered as he pushed the button.

**1706 hours, School Gym. Monday**

It started with a slight tingling in his extremities. Kyle frowned and removed himself from the dance floor. It felt like his lower arms and legs had just spontaneously fallen asleep. He shook his arms, trying to get some blood back to them, but the pins-and-needles stayed. His thought processes went into overdrive when not only did the feeling get worse, but it started to spread, quicker and quicker until it felt like there were stinging ants crawling over his entire body. A close observer would have noticed his skin gently rippling and, though it was indistinguishable in the current lighting, a soft green glow. After a few minutes of gentle breathing leaning against a wall – most attributed this to general exhaustion – when the glow seemed to flare.

That is when the madness started.

The flare drew attention to Kyle, who didn't notice it, but then the pain started. His skin glowed with an acidic green light, and Kyle suddenly felt the feeling concentrate in two places: his head and his chest. Kyle flopped to the floor, writhing in pain as he clawed at his chest, trying to alleviate the burning that seemed to be consuming him. Then he screamed, a wordless cry of pain that set the sizable crowd around him on edge. Many had thought he had just doused himself with something that glowed to try to get attention, and were recording it with their phones. However, the scream alerted them that maybe this wasn't just some prank; the kid on the ground was in pain. They started realizing other details, such as the rippling on his skin. However, nobody moved to help. Everyone was too shocked to do anything. Through some strange twist of fate, the second the current song ended, the glow cut off, the rippling ceased, and Kyle was left curled on the floor, shaking.

**1710 hours, Stockman Research Facilities, Control Room. Monday**

"Well? What happened?"

"Success! The subject is alive! But there is something strange…"

"What happened this time? Liquefied brain? No feet? Antigravity?"

"No…"

"Then what is it you blithering fool!?"

"He wasn't completely mutated. The mutagen seems to be slow acting, and he may not even start changing for another few days, at most."

"What will he turn into?"

"A turtle." Seeing the incredulous look on Stockman's face, Robert hurriedly explained. " We released a bunch of animals into a cage with a button, and the one that could stay on the longest without being knocked off was the type we selected. Hence, a turtle."

"Fine… just when should we get him in here for testing?"

"When he truly starts his mutations. That should be tomorrow, the next day at the latest. He will be mutating slowly, so we can monitor him and his reactions to new mutations as they appear."

"Excellent. Keep me informed."

**1900 hours, The Lair. Monday**

The meditation room was quiet, with the only sound being the light breathing of a certain mutant rat. Master Splinter sat in the classic lotus position while meditating, and beside the steady rise and fall of his chest, he was completely still. However, a close observer would notice something wrong. His face, though serene, seemed to have a tense quality, as if he was remembering an unhappy memory. The rat's breathing slowly sped up, and his left eye developed a slight tick. Eventually, he slipped out of his meditation, eyes opening and breathing deeply. He stood and walked to the door with surprising grace for one who appeared so old, before sliding open the door to the heart of The Lair. His face softened as he watched his sons going about their various projects. Michelangelo was shouting at the T.V., urging on his video game characters as he adjusted his three-fingered grip on the controller. His orange mask whipped around as he gestured wildly at the game. Leonardo was fixing a tear on his blue mask with quick and efficient movements on the worktable, and Raphael appeared to be having a staring contest with the wall, idly spinning a sai in his hand. The only hint that Donatello was anywhere near was the clank of machinery and a few muffled curses from his lab.

"Boys!" Splinter called in his most authoritative voice. Immediately, the young turtles assembled in front of him. Nodding to each in turn, he explained why he had called them together. "While meditating, I have glimpsed something… strange. I need you all to take turns watching over a certain boy."

"Why do we have to watch some human kid? It sounds a bit like stalking to me," Raphael commented, which earned him a bonk on the head from Master Splinter's walking stick.

"I should not have to explain myself to you, but I will. I have reason to believe this boy could be a mutant. So just figure out a schedule, and make sure nothing bad happens." He turned and walked back into his chambers, leaving four very confused terrapins outside.

"Dudes, this is awesome! If there's like, another mutant, we wouldn't be alone!"

"I didn't think anymore mutants could be created without mutagen…"

"And what did he mean about him being a human? I thought mutagen could only work on animals."

"We don't even know what this guy's name is, let alone where he lives."

"I believe I have the answer to that." Everyone looked to Donnie as he turned around his laptop, revealing an image of a glowing, writhing boy that was screaming in pain.

"Dude, that kid is glowing!"

"Well Captain Obvious, it isn't like we didn't know that."

"Cool it Raph. Mikey is simply being Mikey."

"Hey!"

"Look… let's just find this kid before anything else bad happens to him."

**2200 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Sunday**

Kyle woke up shivery and with a pounding headache. He groaned as he rolled over. All traces of the previous pain had gone, but his skin had retained a slight greenish tinge, and he felt queasy. He ached all over, but mostly his headache was bothering him. It had been five hours since the weirdness that was the dance, and it hadn't gone away. In fact, his head was starting to hurt worse than before, although thankfully it was the achy kind of pain, not the burning pain from the dance. He furrowed his brow in deep thought. What could have possibly caused that? It looked like a seizure based on the video, but he was pretty sure that most seizures don't cause glowing, rippling skin. And ever since then, he had felt strange, like something was off about himself. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Sighing in frustration, Kyle took a deep breath and held it… and held it… and held it…

About five minutes later, the boy realized he hadn't released his breath. Kyle started to panic, realizing that his personal best, recorded one week ago in the pool, had been two minutes. Noticing how his lungs still didn't even feel remotely strained, he let his breath out. Now that was strange. He felt like his need for oxygen was lessened somehow. With a shrug, he tried to get out of bed, only to find himself moving sluggishly. What was going on? Sure, it's 55 degrees in the apartment, but he was used to much lower temperatures. He lay back in his bed, rubbing his temples. This had never, ever happened before, and the fact that he was getting these feelings almost directly after his "seizure", and the lingering green tinge to his skin, raised questions. His mind flashed back to what he had assumed was a dream, remembering the color of the liquid in the syringe had been an acid green… exactly the same color he had glowed with at the dance. If that wasn't a dream, then…

His thought processes were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass.

**2205 hours, Stockman Research Facilities, Control Room. Monday**

"Have you sent the retrieval team?"

"Yes, the Foot Ninjas are on their way as we speak."

"They know not to harm the subject?"

"Of course they do, I trained them myself!"

"I also noticed that you are able to beat ten at a time without breaking a sweat."

"Well, this kid is not me, is he?"

"I will just tell them to get into position."

"Fine."

**2207 hours, New York, Outside apartment complex B, rooftops. Monday**

"How much longer do I have to wait here?" Michelangelo complained into his shell-phone.

"As long as it takes to figure out where that kid lives and if he's a mutant," Donatello responded. "I told you to bring a book for a reason you know."

Another voice wafted through the communicator. "Guys, quit the chit-chat. Mikey's on stakeout, and-"

***CRASH***

"What was that?"

"A bunch of Foot Ninja just crashed through a random window."

"I think it's not so random…"

"Mikey, just get in there and stop them from whatever they are trying to do!"

"Alright, see you dudes later." Mikey closed and pocketed the communicator. "Now let's see what these idiots are up to…"

Mikey leaped from the roof, angling towards the broken window. While he started whirling his nunchucks, he yelled what his brothers considered to be his catchphrase."

"COWABUNGA!"

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><p><strong>So reviews... will be answered next chapter! All I can say is THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TEH REVEWZ!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys! Sorry for the late update. All I have to say is finals. Hope you like this chappy!**

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><p>Chapter 3: Enter Volts<p>

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><p><strong>2208 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Monday<strong>

*CRASH*

"Gah!" Shouted John as he jumped from bed, already in a fighting position. His baseball bat was clutched in both hands, shaking slightly as the adrenaline shot through his system. Pressing a small button on the hilt of his weapon, the metal tip of the bat retracted to reveal a flashlight, which immediately turned on and illuminated the general vicinity. Hoping that his idiot brother hadn't just dropped another plate, John opened the small peephole on his door to check what was going on. He barely managed to cover his mouth before a frightened yell launched from it. There were ninjas in the kitchen. He glanced over to his closet, throwing the doors open and looking at the locked chest under the piles of random crap. He sighed. This was just going to be one of those nights, it seemed.

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><p><strong>2209 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Monday<strong>

The Foot Ninjas crept down the carpeted hall, making no noise. They knew who their target was, and frankly didn't care. He was just some other poor sot who was in for horrors. Leading them was a Foot Tech Ninja, designed by Baxter Stockman himself. With it in the lead, what could go wrong?

Famous last words. TWO things could go wrong. And both of them were now in the house.

"COWABUNGA!" A green form crashed through the window directly next to the already broken one, performing a shoulder roll and slamming into the rear guard. The unfortunate ninja crashed into a wall, slumping over unconscious. "Now," Mikey said with a grin. "Who wants to go next?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOME YOU FREAKING NINJAS!" A figure in all black with a flak jacket, a baseball bat, and a shield barreled down the hallway, only to stop short when the Tech Ninja slashed a sword straight at the masked figure, who raised his shield and caught the blade on the edge, barely stopping it from slicing his face open. The ninja responded with a spinning kick that sent the figure flying down the hallway. However, while the Foot Tech Ninja had been dealing with him, the rest of his squad had been dispatched by the orange-masked turtle. While said terrapin did his victory dance, the ninja kicked down his quarry's door, gazing into his room to find… nothing. Bed made, room clean, everything in order. It turned around to leave, and the second its back was turned a baseball bat crashed down on the robot's head. It crumpled as its central processors were destroyed, revealing a young not-quite-mutant boy standing behind him with a baseball bat, eyes wide and body shaking. Even though Kyle was completely shocked and scared, he poked his head out the door to see what all the loud noises had been about. The sight, if that was possible, shocked him even more. Ninja were strewn about the kitchen, a masked figure was slumped at the end of the hall, and a cloaked figure was standing in the kitchen.

"Come with me if you want to live." The voice came from the cloaked figure standing in the kitchen; cloak dramatically flapping against his heels. The image was ruined when he started cackling with laughter. "I've always wanted to say that!" It was all too much for Kyle, who stumbled backward and fell in a dead faint.

"Heh… Whoops," Mikey muttered. "I think I overdid it." Mikey had luckily found a cloak on the rack, and had slipped it on just before the kid had entered the kitchen. It made no sense to scare Kyle, and it hid his appearance from the masked figure somewhere down the hallway. Pulling out his T-phone, he pressed the number for Donnie and waited as it rang. His brother picked up almost immediately.

"What did you do this time?" Donnie asked in a resigned tone of voice.

"Well… the kid kind of fainted and- Whoa!" With ninja reflexes, Michelangelo ducked under the high-velocity baseball bat that carried on over his head and smashed even more porcelain.

"Get away from my brother!" The hooded figure stood at the entrance to the kitchen with a matte black baseball bat slung over his shoulder. He looked intimidating, until a small feathered dart struck him in the shoulder. He slumped to the carpeted floor, unconscious.

Donatello swung through the broken window, landing without a sound on the kitchen floor. "I always have to clean up your messes, don't I? He sighed in mock seriousness.

"What mess? All I did was… ah shell! I can't clean all this up!" Mikey stared dejectedly at the ruined kitchen, seeing for the first time the carnage wrought in the small area.

"We won't have to. Let them assume it was a kidnapping. I know it sounds heartless, but they are better off thinking he is gone or dead than knowing he is a mutant. Speaking of which, where is the kid?"

Michelangelo stepped to the side, allowing the purple masked mutant to see the kid slumped on the floor. Donatello immediately rushed over and started checking his pulse, breathing, etc.

"How did you get here so fast, bro?"

"When you are involved in anything, something always seems to happen. Hence, here I am. Also, on the kid there seems to be no major mutations other than his pigmentation and lung capacity, but I can't really tell without my lab." With that, Donatello slung Kyle onto his back, fireman style, and grabbed the rope he had swung in with. "Come on. Let's go home."

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><p><strong>2220 Hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Monday<strong>

"What do you mean you lost him?"

"Don't speak in that tone to me, Stockman!"

"But you failed! Your ninja failed to capture the subject! Do you know how much- ACK!" The Shredder had leaped across the room and gripped the doctor's throat, cutting off his air.

"Now let myself be perfectly clear. You do not talk to me like that again. Need I remind you that your Foot Tech ninja failed as well?"

"Too… tight… can't breathe…"

"Oh shut up you mewling wretch." He threw Baxter across the room. He promptly gasped for breath and felt the area around his windpipe, wincing when he realized there would be a bruise."

In a deceptively calm voice, Oroku Sake continued. "Get me that mutant. This may be your project, but I funded it. You may use whatever resources you must, or our contract will be… terminated."

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><p><strong>0451 Hours, The Lair. Tuesday<strong>

"Dudes, I think he's waking up!"

Kyle lay on the cot in the medical portion of Don's laboratory, head swimming as he slowly drifted back to the realm of the waking. His vision was extremely blurry; all he could see was a brick ceiling, and… _Wait, I don't have a brick ceiling!_ Kyle's sat up as quickly as he could, and immediately clutched his head in agony as the bright light drove a spike of pain into his skull. After a few moments, he cracked his eyes open, blinking as the light seemed to fade in intensity, and looked around the room. To the right, he saw a geek's idea of heaven (therefor, his idea of heaven) filled with all sorts of advanced machinery that seemed cobbled together, but no less effective. He turned his gaze left, slowly taking in the brick walls and pipes lining everything, before his gaze settled on four green forms standing at the foot of his bed. He stared in uncomprehending shock, taking in the four faces – one smiling, one indifferent, one scowling, and one curious – without noses, ears, hair, or any other human feature. Glancing down, he saw that they apparently had a plastron, three fingers, and a shell on their backs. He promptly fainted once more.

"Dudes, that was worse than the first time we met April!"

"At least Splinter didn't offer him sushi, he would have gotten food poisoning."

"I think it's stupid ta have some kid down here! He obviously has no idea what's happenin' to him!"

"Calm down Raph. Now Don, how far along are his mutations?"

"His skin is slowly turning green, as you can see. His lungs have increased their capacity by a huge amount already, and he is already starting to turn cold-blooded. At his current rate of change he should be-"

Donatello was cut off abruptly as an alarm started beeping on the heart monitor. "Whoa! His heart beat is going crazy! Breathing is abnormal, but brain activity is suddenly through the roof!" Realizing no one was listening to him, he turned around to see Kyle convulsing as a green glow overtook his skin, which started rippling like water.

"Hold him down! He might hurt himself!" Leo shouted. He grabbed the kid's left arm, and Raphael hurried to secure his right. All too suddenly, the glow stopped, the heart monitor went back to normal, and the convulsions stopped. Everyone was silent for a moment.

"What the shell was that, Donatello? Why did that happen again?"

"His slow rate of mutation is brought about by the mutagen continuing to stay in his body. In times of extreme stress, the process seems to speed up. How or why, I don't know. But let's see what happened this time." The purple masked turtle started checking him over, mumbling to himself in the process. However, things got interesting when Kyle was turned on his side.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't humans not supposed to have a small lump in the middle of their back?"

Donatello lifted up the kid's shirt to reveal a small, dappled green shell.

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><p><strong>0300 hours, New York, alleyway. Tuesday<strong>

A lone figure dressed in black leaned against the wall of an alleyway, picking his nails with a small pocket knife. He had been waiting there for the past three hours, but was still well within the window of time set for the meeting. His head snapped up when a small klank sounded from the other end of the alley, revealing a black motorcycle helmet with a bright yellow lightning bolt on the left side.

"You took your sweet time, didn't you?"

A gruff voice responded from the shadows. "I had a previous engagement. Some stupid muggers just don't know when to quit."

"Yeah, well, this is urgent. A friend of mine was taken, and I can't get him back alone." He held up a ripped piece of cloth with a red, three pronged symbol on it. "You recognize this?"

A sharp breath, then silence. A muscled figure emerged from the shadows next to a dumpster, although shadows still masked his face. The only thing visible was a shock of bright orange hair. "I will tell you once. If they took him, you will never find him. Best turn back now and save your own skin."

"I will never turn back."

"Fine then. If you wish for death, so be it. They are the Foot Clan. I will send you everything you need in an encrypted email."

"The usual scheme?"

"No. Use decryption code UNSEEN."

"But that's the highest level! It will take hours to unravel it, even with the code!"

"Hey you wanted this information, and I will not have it known that you have it. If they know you know, you will end up worse than your brother."

"How did you-"

"I'm a vigilante information broker. Don't ask how I know. I just do. Oh, and just one more thing."

"What is it now?"

"If you really need to find him, you will need a team. Tell me if you plan on going through with this." White teeth flashed in the darkness as the broker smiled. "Don't die, Volts.

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><p><strong>YAY! Another chapter done! I kinda hit writers block around 700 words, but I think I finished strong. Soon, Kyle will have to come to terms with his mutations, and his brother... well, you will have to see for yourselves! BTW, does anyone have any tips on how to write Raph's speech? I don't really know how to do his accent...<strong>

**Also, thanks for the awesome reviews! Did anyone see the Lego Movie? I loved it! Remember... Everything is awesome!**

**See you all around!**


	4. Chapter 4: Well, this is awkward

**UGH!**

**I really have no excuse for this... I found this and realized, 'ermagersh this chapter is complete!' and so decided to upload it. And I will now continue writing this story.**

**On the other hand, I feel like this is a fairly lousy chapter, so... yeah.**

**Read and review!**

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><p>Chapter 4: Pizza, Turtles, and Ninja.<p>

**0700 Hours, The Lair, Tuesday.**

Kyle was awoken unceremoniously from his sleep by an explosion.

His cot was flipped, smoke flooded the room, and he could hear yelling interspersed with violent coughing. The young mutant almost ran out from behind the cot, charged with adrenaline, before he remembered where he was. So instead of blindly rushing out, he peeked over the edge of the overturned bed, and despite the situation, almost laughed at the scene.

One of the mutants (the one with the purple mask) had his shell embedded in the brick wall and was flailing his limbs in attempts to dislodge himself. Kyle once more felt the urge to help, despite the circumstances, but quickly ducked behind the cot once more as the door slammed open.

"Donatello! Stop blowing up our house! I have told you time and time again that- why are you stuck to the wall?" To Kyle, the sentence had begun as the start of a possibly long and boring lecture, but ended with an exasperated sigh. It appeared that this was a semi-normal occurrence.

One of them, not sure which, was laughing so hard at the predicament that Kyle was worried he would suffocate.

"Umm, guys? Where'd the kid go?" Instantly the laughing stopped, and Kyle tried to hide under the blankets (not that it would help) as he heard the sounds usually associated with frantic searching, before one finally noticed that the cot was on its side. Kyle stiffened as he heard footsteps getting steadily closer, before they stopped directly in front of his hiding place.

"Come on out kid, we're not gonna hurt you!" The voice had a slight accent that was usually associated with surfers, and an over-exuberant quality. Kyle peeked out from behind the covers to see a turtle with an orange mask and a huge grin plastered on his face, before making a strange choking noise and hiding under the covers again.

"Oh great, we're gonna to be here all day if this keeps up. Let me try." Another voice; this time a rougher accent, and a deeper tone. Kyle curled up more tightly, before the cover was ripped off and he was face to face with another turtle, this one with very dark green skin.

"Get up, kid," he said forcefully while grabbing Kyle's arm and pulling him up. Out of sheer reflex, Kyle did what everyone did when threatened. He threw a punch as hard as he could towards Raph's face. To everyone's surprise, Raphael loosened his grip out of shock just enough for the younger mutant to slip out of his grasp and sprint towards the door. Barely registering the impact, Kyle slammed his shoulder through the door and turned around to make sure he wasn't being followed.

_Back with the turtles…_

"Well. That was unexpected."

"I can't believe he got the drop on you Raph!"

"Shut up Mikey. Fearless, you gonna get him back?"

Leonardo sighed. "Give me a minute."

_Perspective, SHIFT!_

Seeing that there was no pursuit to his flight from the creatures (something in his brain registered that they only were trying to help, but he ignored this out of panic) Kyle turned around…

Only to collide with what felt like a piece of solid rock as he slammed face-first into the blue masked turtle's plastron. To his credit, although Kyle stumbled backwards clutching his nose, he did not fall over. Instead, he tried to switch directions, turning to the left to make his escape. He fell feet first into cold water.

Luckily, Kyle had been on the swim team, and immediately kicked off his shoes and treaded water, searching for an escape route. He remembered that his lungs had inexplicably increased in capacity, so he tried to dive down, only for something to hook the back of his shirt and pull him up onto dry land. Kyle twisted, dislodging himself from whatever was holding him, and landed on the edge of the pool to find himself face to face with the four turtles. One was holding a long stick with purple tape wrapped around the middle in a hand that appeared to have three (THREE?!) fingers, and the end of it was dripping, so he assumed that the one with skin of a noticeably lighter shade of green had pulled him from the water. Luckily, the shock of the cold water had snapped Kyle out of his mini-freak-out, and now they were having what could be considered a staring contest.

"So… Hi." The same one that had pulled him out of the water uncertainly waved his hand in greeting. An awkward silence reigned for a few moments.

"Well… this is a bit awkward." Kyle stated the obvious.

"So what's up?" The orange ADHD one asked, still with his goofy grin.

"Nothing much, just talking to mutant turtles in the sewer, which appears to be completely normal and makes perfect sense. Therefore, I have determined that this is a dream and I will wake up… now." He looked around expectantly, but was surprised to only see the four turtles looking at him weirdly. "Wait… but I'm dreaming! I'm dreaming and if I realize I'm in a dream, it's supposed to turn lucid and I can control stuff!" He glared at the analog clock on one of the pillars, willing it to turn backwards with the sheer power of his mind. When that didn't work…

"Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God…"

"Umm… some introductions may be in order here." The blue masked guy was once again interrupted by Mr. ADHD.

"I'm Mikey! I like video games and pizza and comic books and superheroes and cartoons and action figures and pizza! This is Leo, he kind of leads us, Raph is our resident grouch with breathtaking anger management issues, and Don, the only guy here who may actually be halfway sane!" He paused for a huge breath before continuing, "And we are teenage mutant ninja turtles!" He gestured to the others in turn, before striking what he obviously though was a heroic pose.

*THWAK*

"Oww... what was that for?"

"Do ya really need me to answer that?"

"Whoa whoa whoa… time out. What exactly is going on here?" Kyle asked, still feeling a bit overwhelmed.

All four turtles glanced at each other, before the one with the stick opened his mouth to speak.

"Well, you see-"

"Donatello. You may want to, as you would put it, leave this to me."

"_Hai_, sensei."

"So… you have a giant rat for a sensei. That makes perfect sense."

"This may take a while…"

**0730 Hours, Stockman Laboratories, Tuesday.**

"What do you mean you lost him!"

"This is all trial and error, which are vital parts of the experiment. I can easily track him through his injection."

"Well, do it then!"

"No appreciation for science…" Stockman mumbled under his breath as he made his way over to his personal computer terminal, oblivious to the shuriken that had flown past his head and into the wall on the other side of the room.

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><p><strong>So... yeah. Not my finest work, but that's out of the way now! Yay! Stuff can happen!<strong>

**Sorry if Stockman and Shredder seem very comic-relief ish right now, but that will change! Later!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**-sonyaxe**


	5. Chapter 5: Speed, Stealth, and Silence

**So another chapter already! I must be getting back into the groove.**

**Anyway, please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW**

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><p>Chapter 5: Stealth, Speed, and Secrecy<p>

**0900 Hours, The Lair, Tuesday.**

"So let me get this straight. You guys, a family of anthropomorphic mutant ninjas, have been living in the sewer ever since a bottle of green ooze splashed you?" Kyle asked, still in a state of disbelief. "How'd you survive?"

Leonardo shrugged in answer. "Suffice to say, you wouldn't believe how much change drops down here. That, and-"

"Yeah, you're all ninja, stop using that as an excuse not to explain anything."

Donatello sighed. He had been sitting out of the explanation, trying to think of a way to break the news of the mutation to Kyle. "Guys, we do have something… important to tell Kyle. Remember how you told us about your seizure on the dance floor and the weird stuff injected into you?" Kyle nodded, having explained this to them earlier. "Well… I'm not really sure how to tell you this, but touch the middle of your back."

Confused, Kyle reached around, wondering what all the fuss was about, and felt a hard lump under his shirt. He froze. His breathing started coming in short, panicked gasps. "Mirror… now." The young mutant said, eyes widening with shock and disbelief as he slowly lifted the back of his shirt, took the mirror that a concerned Michelangelo held out to him, and looked at his back. A small green shell, about a foot in diameter, was attached to his back.

Don put his hand on Kyle's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "Calm down kid, earlier you had a panic attack and then you started changing faster. So stay calm, okay?"

Kyle slowly managed to get his breathing under control, not even noticing that his skin had started to glow slightly green, before he dropped his face into his hands and tried to keep himself from having a breakdown. His friends, his family, heck, his life was completely, irrevocably, changed! He was a mutant (out of politeness for his guests, even in the privacy of his mind he refused to refer to mutants as freaks) and after a while wouldn't even be able to show his face on the surface! No one would accept him. Kyle started a bit when he felt a hand with five slender fingers covered lightly with fur touch his shoulder, but still refused to look up.

"Kyle, you must understand that this is not the end of your world. Everything happens for a reason, and while this may seem like a curse, you are still yourself, no matter your appearance," Master Splinter said softly. When there was no reaction, he sighed and sat back down.

"No one will accept me," Kyle muttered into his hands, desperately trying to keep himself composed.

Don tried to add his own two cents. "Look, I'm going to try to get you to look at this logically. You are in the middle of five mutants. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we will accept you."

Although he felt like crawling into a hole with a nice fantasy book (sci-fi was just too close to home now) Kyle composed himself and sat up a little, looked at everyone around him in turn, and decided that maybe Donatello had a point.

"Soo… when's Kyle gonna start training in ninjutsu with us?" Mikey asked. "I mean, he has so much to catch up on, and- ACK!"

"Shut up nimrod. When'd you even get that idea?" Raph asked, still (gently) strangling his little brother with his own mask tails.

"That's actually a good point. When did you get that idea? He expressed no desire to learn," Don pointed out.

Mikey managed to push his brother away, allowing him to get a few words in. "I just figured that aside from video games, comics, and pizza, there isn't really much to do around here." He shrugged. "I just thought it made sense."

"Well… I suppose I wouldn't mind. Of course, your sensei has to approve first. Would you mind if I trained under you in ninjutsu?" Kyle asked splinter.

"That depends on what type of person you are. Why do you want to learn?" He asked.

"To fit in with your sons and to defend myself, and if I can ever return to them, my family." Kyle answered.

"A fine answer," Master Splinter responded. He stroked his beard in thought. "I see no reason to deny you instruction in the art of the ninja, but I will warn you." His tone instantly became deadly serious, and it was all Kyle could do to not back out. "This path requires hard work and dedication, for your trials and dangers will be many. The path of the ninja is not so easy."

"Not to be rude or anything, but that sounded incredibly ominous."

"I know. Do you still have the courage to join us?" The ninja master gazed expectantly at Kyle.

"Yes. I will join, under one condition."

"Oh? And what is that?"

Kyle broke into a grin. "That we start as soon as possible. I have a lot to catch up on."

**0945 Hours, Jake's apartment, Tuesday.**

Volts felt like pulling out his hair in small, painful handfuls.

Not only had it taken four hours (yes, FOUR) to decrypt the damn file, there was more information in it than one of his little brother's beloved books. He had just finished the first half, and decided to grab a mug of coffee before he collapsed of sheer exhaustion. However, upon arrival in the kitchen, Jake realized that the coffee maker had apparently been smashed during the ninja fight.

Trudging back to the computer, he decided to just scroll to the end of the file to see if anything of use was there. His bored expression slowly turned to one of shock, then incredulity, then finally a full on Cheshire cat grin as he read the list of his team.

'_Oh yes, this will be _very_ interesting,'_ Jake thought, looking at one entry in particular.

The entry read: **Codename: Boomstick. Specialty: Demolitions.**

**1036 Hours, Stockman Laboratories, Tuesday.**

Without a doubt, Baxter Stockman, inventor extraordinaire, was completely and utterly stuck. No matter how many times he ran the tracking software, his screen came up with one of two errors.

The first: **Error. Unable to locate. Please run program again.**

And the much less common: **Error. Program rejected. Attempting to reconnect… Failed. Please reboot the device and try again.**

Needless to say, the Shredder would not be pleased with this development.

The aforementioned ninja master somehow managed to slam the automatic sliding doors on his way into the room. "Stockman! Where is my mutant?" He shouted, striding over to the genius's computer.

'_Think of the devil…' _"Well, to put it delicately… I don't know." The doctor cringed under the unnatural red eyes of his employer.

Oroku Saki, instead of promising bodily harm like he usually did, appeared to take a deep breath and center himself.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" He said, barely containing his anger.

"The tracker is refusing the program for some reason, and I have no way of knowing why."

"Well, can you get the last location it was at?"

"No… this may have to be a manual search. On the other hand…" Baxter reached over and unveiled a large case on his desk with a flourish. "I have had several canisters of Mutagen 2.0 be created, to be used at your leisure. Is that satisfactory?" While on the outside, he was calm and confident, internally the doctor was quailing, expecting some form of retribution.

"I suppose that will work, until such time as the experiment can be found." Stockman relaxed visibly. "Remember though, I expect it to be delivered to me if it is captured."

"Of course, of course."

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><p><strong>Hi everyone! First, I want to thank all of the people who have reviewed this story in the past and in the present. Speaking of reviews, PLEASE REVIEW! I draw inspiration from reviews. Also, I need to know if there is anything wrong with my story or if you want to see anything happen. So yeah.<strong>

**-sonyaxe**


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